Fool me twice, shame on me
by Tinderbox of Sanity
Summary: For some sick reason Maxwell had grown increasingly fond of forcing Wilson to comply, instead of just taking what he wanted. Most of the time, anyway.


Wilson slowly lowered to his knees, his cheeks burning with anger and humiliation. His fingers curled into fists at his side, and he reluctantly edged closer to the demon of a man. Maxwell sat nearby on some sort of shadowy-chair. He leaned against the back of it, lit cigar dangling from his right hand, a smug grin on his face, and his thighs spread apart. They were just wide enough for Wilson's shoulders to end up between them, his eyes cast off to the side. It was no use. If he couldn't see the obvious, disgusting bulge in the front of Maxwell's trousers out of the corner of his eye, he was blind. "You don't have all day, pal. In fact, I'd say we have about an hour left of light." Maxwell's unwelcome reminder rung in his ears, and he knew that it was true. That left him with two choices. Get this over with so that he could get a torch lit, or to beg for Maxwell to stay the night, and be faced with unending hours of the demon's sadistic whims. Of course there was the third option, which was to do nothing and be used anyway, and then left in the dark for the monster that came at night. For some sick reason Maxwell had grown increasingly fond of forcing Wilson to comply, instead of just taking what he wanted. Most of the time, anyway.

"You'll really be satisfied with this?" Wilson questioned doubtfully, and he was answered with a chuckle.

"Sure thing, doll." Maxwell crooned, and Wilson shuddered. As much as he hated to be called 'pal' by this tall bastard, feminine nicknames were even worse. Wilson swallowed hard, lifting his hands from his side, only to drop them again. "Come on now, you've done this before."

"Not on my own!" Wilson mumbled back. His brows were drawn, his shoulders slumped, and his jaw tense. He straightened his back when a nudge against his leg startled him, glancing down. "No," he gasped at the sight of a tendril of shadow curling around his thigh. Panic shot through his system, making his fingers go numb. A small shadow of a hand pressed at his shoulder, forcing him closer to the item that he had been trying so hard to ignore.

"You'd better learn fast." Maxwell mused. "Tell you what, pal. Why don't you just open your mouth and hold out your tongue."

"That's all?" Wilson asked, brows lifting a little.

"Yeah, that's all. I'll take care of the rest." The demon chuckled, as the tendril of shadow around Wilson's thigh gripped tighter, and the shadow hand on his shoulder gave another small push. The scientist swallowed hard, lips parting slowly, and sticking out his tongue. He felt like a fool, but if it meant saving himself the mortification of acting willing, so be it. "Tilt your head back, and close your eyes." Frowning, Wilson did as told. The less he had to see of the demon's anatomy, the better. Maxwell lifted the cigar up to his lips, closing them around the tip of it and breathing in deeply. The lit end of the cigar flared to life, hot red against black ash, which slowly turned to gray, and seemed as if it would fall at any moment. He lowered it, giving it a flick. Wilson's eyes opened the moment that he felt the hot ash hit his tongue. At the same time, Maxwell pursed his lips, blowing a concentrated stream of smoke directly towards the smaller man's face just as Wilson attempted to spit the ash out.

Wilson's breath hitched, and he began to cough violently, sitting back on his heels and covering his mouth. His eyes stung and watered, his tongue was burned and covered in ash, and his chest ached from the lungful of smoke that he'd just gotten. Maxwell's obnoxious laughter filled his ears, and the only thing that kept him from glaring up at him was his heaving shoulders as he attempted to expel the unwanted smoke. Finally, long fingers slipped into the top of his hair. They curled into a grip, yanking Wilson's head back. Wilson gave a grunt of pain, his eyes too blurry with tears to see Maxwell clearly. His face was flushed and his cheeks were wet from them. The shadow hand slid up from his shoulder, to the nape of his neck, and around to the front of his throat. Wilson's hands attempted to rise up and grab it, but he found them quickly bound behind his back. He shuddered at the feel of these soft, yet solid tendrils binding him.

"You've wasted valuable time, boy." Maxwell turned his hand, forcing Wilson to observe the setting sun beside them. Already the forest nearest them was sprouting watchful eyes between the dark trees. "Now, are you going to behave for me? No more stalling?" Maxwell asked, one eyebrow raised. Wilson tried to nod, but he winced as the hand in his hair gripped tighter.

"_Yes_!" The smaller man whispered instead. A whimper of pain escaped his tight throat as his head was bent back again, and the shadow hand on his throat tightened.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, _Sir._" Wilson gasped.

"Hm, that's good for now." Maxwell murmured, and he released Wilson's hair. The tendrils around his wrists, and the one on his throat slid away, while the one around his thigh remained. The first thing that Wilson did was rub the back of his gloved wrists across his face to wipe away the tears. He lifted to his knees, reaching for Maxwell's trousers without hesitation this time. He undid the buttons in a jiffy, and soon enough he'd freed the blasted thing. The size of Maxwell's 'demon' was nothing to take lightly. His right hand wrapped around pale, the thick shaft, and the fabric of his glove already felt hot and damp. Leaning forward, he tried to remember exactly what the demon liked. With one last rough swallow, Wilson's lips parted with a wet smack, and his injured tongue slipped forth. Maxwell pressed back into his chair, giving a grateful sigh as Wilson's tongue began to lavishly bathe the head of his cock. His gloved fingers slid back into Wilson's hair, but this time it was only to give an appreciative pet.

Wilson could feel a sick knot chewing in his chest as he chipped away at what was left of his dignity with every lick. It was difficult with his tongue as dry as it currently was, and every swipe across that salty length of flesh was painful for him. Finally he closed his lips around the head, sucking gently, brows furrowing into his grimace when he tasted bitter precum. As another cloud of smoke hit his face, Wilson felt more tears slip free as he closed his eyes. He took a breath in through his nose, which only made him cough even as he bent to swallow as much of Maxwell's erection as he could. He gagged quickly, lifting his head. "Haven't I trained you enough for this? I'm no match for the shadows that have been down there." Maxwell egged. Wilson's ears burned in humiliation at the memory of being violated by those nightmarish shadows again and again. Biting back his pride, he accepted Maxwell's length back into his mouth.

He gagged when it hit the back of his throat again, but he fought the urge to let it stop him. Sucking firmly, he began to bob his head, his right hand working the shaft to make up for what he couldn't take. Maxwell's breath became heated above him, and the hand holding the cigar came to rest on the arm of his chair. The demon chuckled as he pet the scientist's hair appraisingly, admiring his new determination. The truth was that the light was dying quickly; Wilson could see it even with his eyes closed. He could _feel _the darkness encroaching. The tendril on Wilson's thigh began to squirm again, but he didn't notice until it rubbed frimly against the front of his trousers. The smaller man groaned in shock, attempting to pull back. Maxwell's hand caught the back of his hair, pulling his head down harshly. Wilson choked, his hands pressing against Maxwell's thighs as he tried to pull back for air.

Meanwhile the tendril rubbed against him like a needy cat, causing the panicked scientist to tremble from head to toe. Another tendril slipped under the band of his trousers in the back, and Wilson couldn't even move away. Maxwell jerked the other's head back once more, bringing himself free of Wilson's mouth and throat, allowing him to sputter and gasp for air. Wilson's hands clenched into Maxwell's trousers, pinching at his skin. It only drove the demon on, drawing out a chuckle of amusement. "If only you could see your face right now, Mr. Higgsbury." Maxwell mocked, "Red-faced, teary eyed, lips swollen and rouged from sucking on your master."

"_You're not, hh—nn_!" Wilson's shoulders jerked upwards as he felt the tendril that had slipped into his pants suddenly penetrate him without warning. It was slippery and cold, and the sensation of it wiggling inside of him made bile rise up in the back of his throat. "_You promised_!" Wilson protested, his breath growing short. "Just this, just," His jaw clenched tight as pleasure shot through him. Teased from both the front and the back, his skin began to itch with sweat, stifled by his clothing. The tendril inside of him swirled and thrust, and the scientist closed his eyes tightly, an unwanted whimper escaping his throat.

"Now that's a good boy." Maxwell praised again, petting Wilson's hair. "Now stand up, and take off your trousers."

"_No,_" Wilson shook his head, though he tilted his chin up as the tendril inside of him purposefully rubbed against his prostate.

"No?" Maxwell asked, one brow raised. "Open your eyes, pal." Hearing that, the smaller man obeyed. His watery eyes beheld the dying sun with anguish, and he steeled his resolve. He had to survive. That was more important than pride. At least, that's what he told himself. But Wilson didn't move fast enough for Maxwell's liking, and this was made obvious when two shadowy hands grabbed a hold of the scientist's wrists. They were forcefully removed from Maxwell's thighs, and brought to cross his wrists behind Wilson's back. The tendrils rubbing at the front of his trousers fell away, and the one inside of him slipped out, sliding slowly out of his pants, and leaving a trail of slime not unlike a slug. Wilson shuddered, leaning forward a little, and awkwardly moving to stand. He was steadied by the shadows holding his wrists, and Maxwell dropped the cigar, reaching out once the smaller man was up. Wilson felt his will draining away as the demon undid his trousers, pushing them from his hips within seconds. His foot moved to step between them, and Wilson stepped out of his right pant leg, shivering as the cool air assaulted his bare skin. Maxwell's gloved hands grabbed a hold of his hips, and he could feel the heat of the demon's skin through the leather material. Pulled forward, Wilson spread his thighs wide, falling to straddle Maxwell's lap over the shadow chair.

Maxwell's hands traveled down over his hips, to touch Wilson's naked thighs. His thumbs slid towards the inside of those pale and slender thighs as they dragged downwards. Maxwell's right hand lifted, while the left moved up to wrap long fingers around Wilson's half-hard member. Wilson's thighs shook with the effort to stay up, and his eyelids fell half closed, lips slack with, and chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Two long, gloved fingers slid into him suddenly, and Wilson cried out, his voice betraying his pleasure. Whatever slick substance that the shadow had left behind was enough to lubricate those digits, and they began to thrust without mercy. Wilson's thighs tensed and trembled, dipping his head to rest it against Maxwell's shoulder. "_Please_!" Wilson begged, his hips moving back against the fingers imploringly.

"Please what, my little slag of a scientist." Maxwell cooed into his ear, his breath reeking of cigar. If there was an emotion that was beyond humiliated, the scientist was surely feeling it. Still, Wilson needed this to end, and the hand still stroking his now dripping arousal wasn't helping.

"Please, just put it in!" He begged, turning his face into Maxwell's neck. The demon always smelled of dusty bones and smoke, but the musk of sweat had been added to it. "Maxwell, _please,_" He pleaded, breath hot and humid as it brushed against Maxwell's shirt and jacket collar. "Hurry and put it in!" Wilson nearly bit his tongue when Maxwell jerked his fingers out, the hand stroking the scientist leaving as well. He lifted his hips when he was urged to, seeing that his hands weren't going to be released.

"Good boy." Maxwell praised, "Now, sit." He ordered. Wilson was aided only by Maxwell's fingers pressing along the underside of his own erection, guiding it as the smaller man lowered his hips over him. The difference in their height was impossible not to take into consideration, and Wilson released a sob as the head of Maxwell's member stretched him further than he had been prepared for. "You're doing just fine." Maxwell assured, and Wilson had to bite his tongue as not to give a short retort. Pain was something that he had become accustomed too here, and this was a large part of the reason. He groaned in relief once the head was past that tight ring of muscle, and he began to sink down more easily. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, as his weight allowed the demon to press deeper inside of him than was usual. Wilson finally allowed himself to breathe once his bottom rest on Maxwell's clothed hips, pressing his damp cheek to larger man's shoulder.

Maxwell slid off his right glove, smacking his palm against Wilson's bottom and earning a pained gasp. "Move." Maxwell ordered, his voice a bit strained with pleasure. Everything in him screamed not to obey the infuriating man, but his self preservation prevailed. Wilson lifted his hips, hissing as he realized that most of the shadow tendril's slime seemed to have dissipated. He lowered them with a small grunt, jolting as he received another slap to his bottom.

"I-I am!" He protested, only to receive another, harder swat. Clenching his jaw, Wilson ignored the slight burn that the friction caused, lifting his hips and bringing them down swiftly. Now the demon groaned low in his throat, and Wilson closed his eyes as he repeated the process. Wilson felt that hand grab a hold of the cheek he'd been slapping, gripping it as the scientist continued to rise and fall on the stiff member. Their clothing rustled, and their breaths became obscenely loud in the open space of the field, along with those vulgar slaps of flesh. Maxwell's left hand slid up into the back of the smaller man's hair, gripping it and tilting Wilson's head back. His teeth bit into Wilson's pale neck, and the scientist tensed up as he cried out in pain. The action of tightening around the member inside of him was enough to spark Maxwell's release, and Wilson stopped as soon as he felt that first little jerk. "Don't come ins—!" Wilson pleaded, but the hand on his ass held him firm against the demon's hips as Maxwell jerked intro him, filling him with his tainted seed. "_Damn you,_" Wilson sobbed dryly, fighting not to let new tears rise from the frustration. Maxwell's tongue bathed the bruises he'd left behind, his breath hot against his neck.

In the next moment, Wilson was pulled away by the hands on his wrists. He cried out in surprise and pain as his shoulders bore the brunt of his weight before he caught himself with his shaking legs, slipping to his knees when the shadows released him. He could feel the hot, sticky, wet substance on the inside of his thighs, most likely slipped free by the sudden movement. "Looks like your time is up, Mr. Higgsbury." Maxwell said as he stood, stuffing himself back into his pants. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and Wilson realized that it was now quite dark. He heard a sound from the forest, and his heart leapt into his throat. He forgot all about the mess on his thighs and his own still aching arousal, turning to scramble for his bag. He sifted through it frantically, finding his last unlit torch.

"_Oh no,_" Wilson moaned, as the sun seemed to wink out of existence. He'd been readying to get this lit when Maxwell had first arrived, presenting him with the ultimatum that had led to this.

"_Ooh, _bad luck, pal." Maxwell laughed. Wilson turned his frightened eyes to Maxwell, somehow still surprised that he had been lied to. Just as he opened his mouth to curse, or plead, he hadn't really decided, he spotted something lingering by Maxwell's feet. Grabbing up his torch, he raced over to the larger man. Dropping to his knees, he winced as they scraped against the dirt and rocks. Snatching up the still smoldering cigar, Wilson pressed it to the torch. It flared to life, and he gave a shuddering breath of relief. "So resourceful. I'll have to be more careful next time. Oh well, that's what I like about you, boy." He reached down to pat Wilson's hair. "See you around." And just like that, he was gone.

Wilson was left alone in his little sphere of light; half naked, thighs covered in a demon's seed, his tongue burned and tasting of ash, but thankfully no longer aroused. Fear for your life will get rid of that right quick! Somewhere in the distance, he heard howling. Well, it seemed there'd be no sleep tonight.


End file.
